


Of Sunflowers and Thunderstorms

by draconianApathy



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Kissing, M/M, be ready for the fluff, its almost 4 am, listen they just love each other dont at me, sunflower fields everybody, we yearning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:41:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21965863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/draconianApathy/pseuds/draconianApathy
Summary: The imagination was spectacular.Virgil had to admit everything about it was breathtaking. Wondrous. Striking and sensational just like the moment of silence between the last two lines of a theatrical play.The visuals, the aura it radiated, he felt like he had stumbled upon someone else's dream.Everything, as he certainly deeply meant it, everything about it was stupendous.Roman was part of it.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders
Comments: 2
Kudos: 33





	Of Sunflowers and Thunderstorms

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sar-kasstic](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=sar-kasstic).



> This is a Christmas gift for a dear friend! Love you lots Kass!  
> There are no particular warnings for this fic, please let me know if I need to add anything. Part of the dialogue is taken from a song called Flammes a Lunettes. Enjoy!

_❝ Flowers, I remember fields_

_of flowers, soft beneath my heels,_

_walking in the sun._

_I remember someone._

_Someone by my side,_

_turned his face to mine … ❞_

The imagination was spectacular.

Virgil had to admit everything about it was breathtaking. Wondrous. Striking and sensational just like the moment of silence between the last two lines of a theatrical play.

The visuals, the aura it radiated, he felt like he had stumbled upon someone else's dream.

Everything, as he certainly deeply meant it, everything about it was stupendous.

Roman was part of it.

Which made Roman the ultimate wonderful creation to be stunned by.

Virgil knew this, he perfectly knew this as the other side talked and looked up at a clear cerulean with those dazzling amber irises, painted with the light the sky gave him.

He was lying next to Virgil, comfortably cradled, as if in a nest, by the sunflower field he had let appear for the sole purpose of them enjoying their time together.

The flowers stood straight and loomed above them and Virgil thought up for a moment the possibility of being part of a fantasy novel.

He looked as Roman spoke, he looked at the outline of his face, at the curves it made, at the motion of his pillowy lips disrupting its poised continuation.

As his voice came out as a melody repeating the same two letters over and over again, and still aiming at the listener's heart, which was promptly enraptured. On fire.

Yet, Roman wasn't even singing.

And his voice could still be perceived as the tune one would get pleasantly stuck in his head.

The one song you can't help but listen multiple times a day.

Roman? Well, he was an experience Virgil silently wished to witness more than once in his routine.

Virgil adored everything about the imagination. He adored everything about Roman.

« I could even ... » Creativity softly shook his head, thoughtful. « make these sunflowers grow taller. Make them rise higher than our heights. »

« Why? » Virgil snapped back to life.

Roman ignored the question. « I could make a sunflower labyrinth. We could even _dance_ between the grass walls. » his eyes narrowed as daydreaming took over his sight.

« You don't have to. »

« I can do anything. » he mused, finally turning and meeting Virgil's gaze.

Determination fueled him, the same determination that made his entire self almost glimmer with the delight new ideas brought him.

And then it faded away, softening the edges that were sharpened by the focusing moment.

« But for now I'll just … » he rested his arms under his head and made himself even more comfortable, shifting so imperceptibly closer to Virgil that neither of them noticed. « Enjoy myself. »

Virgil snorted softly. « Aren't you always enjoying yourself? » the question, obviously, came out as rhetorical through a grin.

« Hey, » Roman furrowed his brows with faked offence. « this is a fine body, thank you very much. »

« We have the same- »

« I know. »

« Then why- » too engrossed in his own confusion, it took Virgil a moment too late to realize what Roman had just implied.

He turned to face Anxiety. « Why? » he repeated, cutting him off as he saw the other's face twist in disbelief.

« I don't know. Maybe it's one thing. » Roman reached out and let his hand pass through Virgil's hair, from the top of his head to the side of his face right next to his left eye. « Maybe another. » at this point it was just his fingertip tracing a path down his cheekbone.

Virgil was irreparably petrified under his touch.

« Or completely something else. » anyone would have noticed the brush of Roman's fingers tickling his lips as they travelled to his chin and fell down on his chest, where they rested.

Virgil, poor Virgil now definitely on fire, became aware of his breathing at once.

He dared not to speak.

« I hope my point could enlighten you. » Roman withdrew his arm, knowing very well it did.

All he got back was an almost silent “Hm”. For, y'know, reasons.

Their subsequent time was filled by quiet moving of hands as Virgil pretended he was using Roman's powers and creating little purple sunflowers all around them.

Roman gladly complied to the game, to the point of amusing himself, too.

Or maybe both of them, because when he sneaked a glance at the other, he could see an evident smile adorning his face.

Virgil raised his arm and pointed to the sky, waiting for something to happen.

Which was … nothing. Nothing but distant sounds.

« What's that odd pitter-patter? » Virgil sat up, narrowing his eyes as if he could refine his hearing with that sole movement.

« That's just the rain. » Roman followed his motions, yet looking much more unimpressed of the weather condition the imagination managed to maintain. « You like the rain, Stormcloud? »

As much as that was meant as a joke, Virgil responded in honesty. « Getting wet? No. » he looked at the sky behind himself, untrusting.

Then he turned to Roman, and when his eyes set on him, something in the air seemed to change.

« But the sound it makes, » he remembered how he couldn't stay focused on anything but Roman's singing the day before. « Yes. » there was also a different look in both of their gazes.

« A storm's brewing. » Creativity informed, without taking his eyes off the other.

The buzzing around them grew louder, yet it didn't materially exist.

« A thunderstorm? »

« A magnetic one. »

And it really was.

Rumbling and crashing of thunders burgeoned as the pulling energy attracted them both towards each other.

Lovely as it sounds, the storm grew louder with every centimetre less that separated them. Flowers fell apart as Roman's hands found Virgil's cheeks for the second time that day. Virgil held his breath, and the rivers shook with fear.

Despair approached and was unleashed by Roman catching Virgil's lower lip between his own.

The chaos was soon forgotten, but didn't diminish when Virgil returned the kiss, which became thousand more and a hundred couple of thunders exploding in their honour.

It was the dread of the hourglass, the last grains of sand falling onto the others, it was the threat of the sea level arriving at your neck, your feet almost floating in the water.

And every time they parted, the world tried to rebuild itself.

Destruction mocked the revival of reality, with it Virgil and Roman haunted the possibility of restoration.

They became deaf with the thundering and blind with the flashes of lightning.

Virgil pulled back, forcing himself not to dive in again as soon as his lips left Roman's.

He let himself admire him, the same way he had done moments before, the same way he had been doing for way too long, so much that it physically ached to simply look at him.

Such a devastating beauty, the worst of the femme fatale.

He had a thought. A repetitive thought of the past few hours.

The imagination was spectacular.

« You're splendid. »

And Roman was part of it.


End file.
